


An Exchange of Souls

by Rufescent



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Swap, F/M, Gen, Parental Roy Mustang, freaky friday AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rufescent/pseuds/Rufescent
Summary: It seems impossible for Roy and Edward to understand each other. They're too different, too far apart. Or so they think. A Freaky Friday AU set in modern times. Parental Roy, light Royai.





	An Exchange of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Fullmetal Alchemist characters or world, nor do I own the plot of Freaky Friday. Now with that out of the way... Welcome to the Parental!Roy AU no one asked for. Please enjoy your stay. No refunds or returns accepted—

_5:29_

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red, dark inside and outside.

_5:30_

Roy was not a morning person, but compared to one Edward Elric, he was sunshine and daisies. For the millionth time in the past four minutes, the politician shook his charge awake and hissed a reminder that they needed to be out the door by six.

The alarm beeped in loud, constant, frustrating agreement, and he flinched back at the start even though he was awake, dressed, and already expecting the ungodly sound in the early morning quiet.

Ed peeked an eyelid open, grumbled unintelligibly, and rolled over, pulling his covers with him to make a tight trespassers-will-be-shot human burrito. Roy rolled his eyes and stalked out. Fine. If Edward wanted five minutes to get dressed, eat breakfast, pack his school bag, and gather all his winter gear, no skin off his back. He had better things to do.

_5:45_

From upstairs, there was an alarm beeping its heart out for the third time today. And the sun hadn't even risen yet. God help them.

Roy had just finished pouring orange juice into the second glass on the table when his other charge stumbled into the kitchen, hiding a yawn with one hand and scrubbing a hand through his messy light-blond hair with the other.

He absently waved hello before the voice on the other end garbled something of importance. Keeping his phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder, Roy quickly shuffled through his notebook planner, mumbling, "Hold on, hold on. Oh!" Gathering the phone back into a hand, he said, "Yes, noon at the town hall meeting tomorrow, I'll be there."

The coffee machine gurgled in the background, adding to the never-ending motion of the morning.

As Alphonse pulled up a seat at the already-set table, reaching for his glass of pre-poured milk, Roy stalked out of the kitchen speaking names and numbers and politics. It seemed interesting, his foster dad's job, especially with the re-election campaign starting to come to peak fruition.

"Good morning, Mr. Mustang," Alphonse Elric greeted shyly behind his half-empty cup, a smile in his voice when the older man returned, phone tucked away.

His foster dad blinked tiredly but he didn't waste any time in smiling back, kind and soft. "Good morning, Al, how'd you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you," he returned politely, starting to cut into the microwave-warmed waffle before him. By his side, the chair still empty, his brother's waffle was starting to get cold.

Roy nodded absently, flipping through his calendar. Talking to himself, he scribbled down an updated schedule, doing the math in his head: with the town hall meeting at noon, across the city, he'd need to visit the wedding venue as early as possible. They didn't open until… he checked Riza's clean handwritten note in the margin of the notebook: nine. It wasn't serious, having already approved the site for the wedding in two days, but he wanted to get a feel for the right color scheme so he could inform their wedding planner on the little details they still had to manage last-minute.

With Alphonse chomping away at his waffle and the coffee finally in a nice, portable mug, Roy leaned back and stretched. His eyes landed on the kitchen clock and that freshly-found calm vanished into thin air.

Shit, Edward.

_5:52_

When Roy had said he didn't care if Edward only gave himself a single minute to get out the door, he was straight up lying. He did care. A lot. Because if Ed made them all late (_again_), there was going to be a long grounding in that boy's future. There was a lot happening right now, and they didn't need to add another tardy to the boys' record to complicate matters even further.

As the man stomped up the stairs, yelling, "EDWARD ELRIC, YOU BETTER BE DRESSED AND READY TO LEAVE IN FIVE MINUTES," the younger Elric hurriedly finished his breakfast, peering up the stairs with a frown.

From his new spot by the door, his backpack resting against his winter boots, he heard, "WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE COULD DROWN IN A SNOWFLAKE?"

"Brother," Al cringed regretfully, staring at the floor, hard. Mr. Mustang wasn't a bad person, but his brother refused to listen whenever he defended their foster dad.

_5:58_

"I'm UP, you lazy bastard," Edward fumed, storming past Alphonse and into the kitchen as Roy followed after, taking each step with unconcealed annoyance. Alphonse sighed. Edward gave as good as he got, always.

On cue, with the air of a crackling lightning storm, Edward stomped past Mustang and out the door, waffle in hand and backpack slung over a shoulder, calling back, "Come on, Al!" He marched across the snow-covered driveway and slammed the car door hard enough that the vehicle rocked from side to side.

Alphonse, bundled up in a grey scarf patterned with kittens that said 'meow' and a funny little hat that looked like a helmet from a very old style of armor, offered Roy a strained grimace and a "Sorry, Mr. Mustang," and then chirped back, louder, "Coming, brother!"

_6:02_

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, long and loud, in the empty archway. Today was going to be a long day.

"What's the hold up?" Ed shouted, the door cracked open just enough for Roy to see his wild cowlick bounce with every word. Right then. Roy steeled himself and marched to his car like a soldier going to war.

The drive to Central High was silent, not event the radio was on — it was too early for the stations to play songs, and no one was in the mood to listen to the hosts gush over the latest inane celebrity gossip.

Five minutes to the dropoff point, Roy said, trying to keep his voice even and unassuming, "Your shirt is on backwards."

Ed rolled his eyes, loudly. Even Al could hear it, and he was sitting with his hands folded in his lap in the backseat. "Whatever, bastard." His foster dad's jaw tightened, the muscles working, and Ed smirked, saying flippantly before Mustang could reprimand him again, "it's a stylistic choice."

"Fine."

"Fine," Edward mimicked, relaxing back into the seat, watching the little snowflakes melt as they landed on the passenger-side window. Snow-dotted pine and spruce trees remained just out of focus as the drive quietly continued along.

Finally, with great effort, they pulled to the side of the street, only one tire riding up the raised curb this time. Mustang winced when the car tilted under them, but he put it in park and turned to the boys with a thin smile.

"Good luck with school today, you two."

Edward pushed his way out, shoving the door open with more force than necessary. Alphonse took it upon himself to answer, brightly, "Thank you, Mr. Mustang. I hope you have a good day, too!"

The door slammed shut and Roy jumped before he could help himself. Both teenagers were already turning around, though, in the process of spotting two familiar classmates — Ling Yao, the wealthy son of one of his biggest donors, and Lan Fan, a quiet, sharp, shadow of a girl who had _always, _without-fail, managed to sneak up on him whenever the boys hosted a gathering — and Roy returned his focus back to the street in front of him. He had a full day of work ahead.

* * *

They had a full day of school ahead, but neither teen wanted to head to their first class just yet. Instead, despite the early morning chill and the soft, gentle flurries glittering silver in the air, they bundled up on a bench and talked. In the meantime, other cars pulled up and left, students shuffling their way inside the large brick building, hiding yawns as the sun started to rise with them.

Ling, a gloved hand in Lan Fan's - who stood stoically at his side - enthused with his eyes half-open, "I heard from Mei Chang who heard from Scar who heard from his half-Amestrian cousin that a Central University student successfully developed an alkahest that could dissolve even _gold_!"

"Bullshit," Ed snorted, sharing a disbelieving look with Al. "Alkahests don't exist."

"There'd be no way to keep it contained if that is true," Alphonse agreed, explaining, "A solvent that can universally dissolve everything can't be kept in anything."

"Sorta like a ghost," Winry interrupted enthusiastically, accompanying the sound of soft footfalls and the sweet scent of winter pansies. They heard a car drive away behind her, but Edward only had eyes for her bright-as-a-cloudless-sky eyes and dimpled smile. Edward ducked his head further in his red hoodie as his traitorous brother shoved his shoulder, giggling. Winry remained oblivious, continuing logically with,"If they can go through walls, why don't they sink past the floorboards?"

"Maybe they float?" Ling wondered, resting his head on his palm and looking for all the world like he could fall asleep any second despite the excitement in his voice.

"Does it even matter? You'd be an idiot to believe ghosts exist!"

Paninya and Rosé trooped up to the group of friends, sharing a bemused glance as Edward went flying backwards, tripping over the bench and landing on his butt, shouting all the while, "You crazy gearhead!"

Winry puffed up like an angry cat and yelled at the top of her lungs, "SHORTY!"

Oh no. With skills that came from years of experience, the girls looped their arms around the angry blonde mechanic and dragged her back before the tiny sophomore could answer her.

"See you at lunch, Elric!" they called over their shoulder, pulling the struggling spitfire into the building.

The doors swung shut with a flap and then there was blessed silence.

"Did you really have to insult her, brother?" Al asked quietly. Ling snorted and even Lan Fan looked amused despite her cold, vacant stare. The younger teen sighed as Ed sputtered, violently brushing snow off his coat and returning to the front of the bench, "Forget I asked."

With a yawn, Ling stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "AP Gov is gonna suck today, I heard Mr. B is angling for another pop quiz."

"Oh _shit_," Ed blanched, unzipping his backpack in record speed and shuffling through the binders and half-crumpled papers. The other three watched him curiously, seeing the progression of fear transform into straight out horror. He looked up, pale. "I forgot my project at the house!"

Alphonse frowned in sympathy. If it were any other student, he could probably get away with a five-point deduction from his final grade, but Mr. B seemed like he had something out for his brother. He'd probably get a failing grade right then and there.

"Maybe you should have been more careful in the morning, Elric," Lan Fan scolded.

Ed barely looked up, hissing, "How was I supposed to with Senator Bastard hounding me about every stupid thing. Fix your shirt, get up now, clean your desk, put away your plate, bla bla bla."

Alphonse sighed for the millionth time today. Ling laughed and gave the smaller Elric a sympathetic pat on the back. "Good luck, Edward Elric. You'll need it."

The group of four stood up, shrugging on backpacks and taking off winter hats and gloves as they pushed open the school doors. The sun continued to rise behind them.

* * *

"_Shit_!" Roy quickly pulled the car back into his lane, hearing the vehicle on his right speed by with a loud, long honk. Grimacing, he flicked his turn signal back on and carefully checked all his mirrors before angling into the lane he needed to be in with his turn coming up fast.

"What was that?" Jean Havoc asked curiously, stopping mid-sentence on the other end. "You okay, boss?"

"Fine, fine," he replied absently, making his right turn at the intersection with too many thoughts spinning around his head. "Tell me about the polls again, I couldn't hear you at the end there."

"Sure thing," and Havoc did: there was an increase in support for the anti-corruption legislation he was trying to put through, but the Senators across the aisle weren't looking too happy with just how all-encompassing and personal it was going to be if it came into effect.

That was good, he could work with that. All he really needed was the public support. With the majority of the community on his side, he could manage to get those in the blended municipalities on his side with barely any effort.

"See if you can get a meeting with Senator Armstrong today," Roy said, thinking aloud, "we'll need her support if we want to get the big leagues to come down to our level."

"Anything else?"

Roy spun the wheel under his palm, pulling into his parking spot and only just managing to stay within the white lines. He peered out the window to see if he needed to repark, but the shoddy job was satisfactory enough. "No," he said, but then remembered suddenly, "There is one more thing: I need to visit the wedding venue tomorrow morning since the florist had a problem with the shipment of fire lilies. There's also a town hall meeting at noon, could you arrange transportation for Riza?"

"She'll want to come in her own car," Havoc said on the other line. "You know how much she likes it when she comes straight from work."

"Just make the arrangements," he said and hung up before his subordinate could answer. He leaned his forehead against the wheel, taking a deep breath and gathering himself up for a long day of talking and smiling and faking it until he makes it.

He also had to fit in a hospital visit before visiting hours closed. It was going to be a busy day or, more accurately, a busy week. He couldn't wait until the wedding. One stressor finished, twenty thousand more to go. Good luck to him.

* * *

Mr. B waited until it was five minutes to the end of class before returning the thesis papers he had asked for last month. He passed by Edward's desk with a look of severe disappointment, depositing his paper without care.

Edward snarled down at the red stamp in the corner, his upper lip curled in distaste at the unfairness of it all. An _F-_? There was no fucking way his paper was worse than Paninya's incompetent C-level analysis that was littered with spelling errors and run on sentences born from a lack of sleep and a self-imposed time limit of half an hour. From the front seat, the tan teenager shrugged in sympathy as their teacher continued to hand out the students' papers face-down on the desks.

The persecution wasn't anything new to them, but it only made Ed's anxiety worse when he considered what it was going to be like when he had to admit he didn't have the huge project due today. As Ling and Lan Fan compared grades in the seats across from him, Ed threw his eraser at Ling's head. It bounced off his forehead and landed on the floor without the Xingese teenager even bothering to shoot him a glare. Lan Fan gave him a dirty look out of the corner of her eye, though, and Ed immediately regretted it. Who knew what revenge she could think of before karate club.

"It's an _F-_," he hissed at them, leaning across his desk. Ling blinked and shrugged, just like Paninya, sympathetic but also knowing there was nothing to do about it. Lan Fan didn't even bother turning to him. Ed shivered from the cold shoulder.

This was so unfair. Mr. B was pulling this out of his ass.

"I'm gonna talk to him," he said, more to himself than his friends. He couldn't keep getting failing grades: he was two big tests away from failing the entire class. No way was he going to allow a teacher's dumb bias endager his future educational prospects.

When the dismissal bell finally rang, Edward was out of his seat in seconds, meandering around desks and backpacks and friend groups. Mr. B's back was to him as he wiped the whiteboard clean with a wet paper towel.

Edward coughed, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets, pulling the fabric taut. "Mr. B, sir, I want to talk about my essay."

His teacher didn't turn around but he did say, low and fake-warm, "There's nothing to discuss, Elric. My grade is final."

"I know that," Ed said, barely keeping himself from spitting obscenities. What would Al think if he went home with another detention under his belt? "But there are barely any notes to help me improve. How can I do better if you won't tell me what I did wrong in the first place?" Perhaps that was a bit too forceful, but could you really blame him? It was as polite as he was going to get.

Finally, Mr. B turned around, and his face was a mask of indifference. Edward took a step back, feeling the rage simmering just under the surface and not wanting any part of that terrifying intensity.

Without saying anything, his teacher pulled the stapled papers from his loose grip, and, right before his very eyes, dropped it into the waste bin by the desk. Before Ed could find his tongue, the man said, "There was nothing of substance to criticize. I should have just put it where it belongs."

And then he turned around, organizing the markers into straight lines, with Edward left there to stare daggers into his back.

It was a clear dismissal, but unfortunately he couldn't leave just yet. Best to get it over with, then. Grinding his teeth, Ed said, "I also forgot my project at home. I'll bring it tomorrow."

"Fifteen points off for each day late, Elric. Next time, I suggest you think things through."

Assuming his project was perfect (it _was_, but never according to him), he was already an entire letter grade down. He couldn't forget it tomorrow or he'd be screwed.

Edward pushed through the classroom door and didn't look back.

* * *

Roy opened the door to his office, shutting it behind him and effectively hushing the loud voices of people on phone conversations and the constant shuffling of papers this way and that. It wasn't even noon yet and he already wanted to nap for the rest of the day. That could have also been due to the fact that his desk now had paperwork stacks taller than his oldest charge (heh).

Slumping into his chair, Roy pulled his landline phone closer, eyeing the clock on the far wall as it changed from 11:54 to 11:55. Five minutes.

Instead of getting to work on the papers, Roy swiveled his chair to face the windows. It was a cloudy sky, grey and cold. The snow that had been on the roads had long since melted as the day wore on, but some dappled patches of white could still be seen in brief spots of shade. Little figures the size of ants hurried across the street, some with umbrellas open to the chilly air despite the lack of snowfall.

There was a knock on the door and Roy didn't need to turn around to say, "Come in."

Kain Fuery, the team's youngest and most technologically-advanced addition, ducked his head inside with an expression of apology. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," he started to say before Breda shoved him out of the way. The boy squeaked and floundered before Falman helped him right himself.

"Armstrong just announced her support for the Amestrian Defense bill, boss," Breda exclaimed, too shocked to be angry.

Havoc, leaning against the windowsill and letting the cold air inside as a cigarette burned just out of reach of the detectors, added seriously, "This isn't good. We should start on damage control."

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, not yet." He looked over to Falman and Fuery, the former stoic and loyal, ready for anything; the latter, wide-eyed and concerned about what was to come. Luckily for them, he had predicted this move. "Calm down. We still have some cards left to play. She's only supporting it for the funds that will go to the local law enforcement in Briggs. If we have a veteran and an idealist politician ramp up the consequences, she might edit her support with an addendum."

"Who're you thinking?" Havoc asked slowly, flicking his cigarette out the window and shutting it.

"Grumman and Armstrong."

"Armstrong?" Fuery asked, confused.

Falman shook his head, but he was smiling grimly at the audacity as he explained, "Her brother is a freshman Rep. She's not going to like that."

Roy shrugged, and the move looked oddly out of place. "She knows how bad the consequences will be if it passes. It would be nice to come to an agreement where everyone is happy, right?"

"Right!" his team chorused and set out effectively managing the crisis. With that out of the way, Roy pulled his door shut once more, glancing at the clock. 12:17.

Punching in the numbers from memory, Roy waited. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Hello," she said and without even realizing it, he relaxed back in his chair, his headache easing up.

"Hey," he answered, just as soft and quiet. "You just finish your rounds?"

"Yes, I'm on my lunch break," she said, but ever the perceptive partner, continued with, "What happened?"

Despite not wanting to talk about it, Roy found himself saying, "I don't know how to get Edward to give me a chance."

Riza didn't sound surprised that it was about his foster kid. "Just give him some time. It's a new experience for all of you."

Roy peered out the window, watching the small people shuffle along. Time. He could do that. "You're right, as always."

There was another thoughtful silence. "Let's get dinner tonight, all of us. I think it'll help."

"The new Xingese restaurant down the road? The boys might like to try some authentic meat for once."

Riza picked up on the self-deprecating tone immediately and wouldn't stand for it. "You being vegetarian doesn't bother Edward or Alphonse in the slightest."

"Maybe so," he said, neither confirming nor denying it. Riza sighed on the other end of the line, but graciously let it drop.

"Let's say seven o'clock?"

"It's a date."

* * *

"Oh, yuck!" Ed spat out the bloated raison, rage on his face. "Who packed the dates?"

Alphonse laughed so hard his body shook. Through his giggles he managed to explain, "Mr. Mustang was trying to eat healthy, hehe."

"So he's the culprit?" Ed muttered darkly, only to have his brother start off on another peel of giggles. With careless grace, he reached over and swapped their plastic bags. Since it was just _so funny_, Al could take them. He'd happily eat the assorted nuts instead of that wrinkly monstrosity.

"Actually, brother, I told him you liked dates!" Al confessed without guilt, his cheeks rosy from the prank well done. "Since _you _told him I liked cute, _baby _things!"

"Well you _do_!" he defended loudly. He stood up and ticked a list off with his fingers, "You're always bringing cats home, you cry during the soppy, kissy part of a chick flick—"

He was unceremoniously cut off mid-sentence from the nasty habit of being shoved to the ground by a rude asshole.

"HEY!" his baby brother yelled, out of his seat and already moving forward.

"Whoops, sorry, Elric, didn't see you there," Russell Tringham apologized without an ounce of sincerity. The teenager, with his stupid height and his stupid stupidity, smirked down at him.

He could be the bigger person here. Tringham was _obviously _jealous he was getting better marks in their chemistry unit this semester. The poor, stupid bastard. He didn't need to stoop to his level.

"You know, since you're so small," he finished snidely.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE'D GET RUNOVER BY AN ANT?!"

Tringham looked confused, like the idiot he was, and Alphonse rushed over, wincing. "No one said that, brother!"

"But he was _thinking _it," the not-short teenager fumed, jumping to his feet. "Let's do this, asshole!" And then he shot forward with his fists out before anyone could stop him.

It was lucky for everyone that his brother was so close. Using his height to his advantage, Alphonse pulled the struggling and kicking rage monster back, arms wrapped tightly around his brother's middle. Tringham, sprawled on the floor with a bruise forming just below his jaw, stared up at the brothers in surprised pain.

"Brother," Al admonished.

"He deserved it," Ed said unrepentantly, going limp. Seeing that he wasn't going to start off on another rampage, Al let him go.

"BOYS!" one of the math teachers exclaimed in horror, rushing up to the scene with bewilderment and concern. Too little too late. She helped up a crying Tringham and glared daggers at Ed and Al, the latter flinching away even though he was innocent in all of this. "What happened here?"

Ed took credit for the fight without any resistance. Al opened his mouth - because they stuck together, always - but Ed stepped in front of him and declared that he wasn't sorry, Tringham could suck it.

Everyone expected the detention.

When people finally dispersed and the stares eventually returned someplace else, Al muttered softly, "Teacher's not gonna be happy you're missing another lesson for detention."

Ed slumped on top of the cafeteria table, his hood falling over his head. "You're right, I'm sorry," he mumbled into his sleeves.

He heard rather than saw Paninya and Rosé tentatively join them now that it was safe. They started up a quiet conversation between themselves after a couple failed attempts to have him rejoin the land of the living. It didn't matter.

He missed Resembool and his old school and… mom. It had been over a year since they'd moved, but it still… wasn't the same. He hated it here.

* * *

Roy hated paperwork. It was the bane of his existence.

"Bye, Mr. Mustang, sir," Fuery said cheerfully, wrapping a black scarf around his neck. Some time ago in the early afternoon it had started to snow more consistently, stretching out a fabric of white on top of the roofs and sidewalks. The weather didn't say anything about more than an inch of accumulation, though, so Roy wasn't too concerned.

He raised a hand in dismissal. "Stay warm. I think I'll head out soon too, the boys finish school in about an hour anyway."

"Yes, sir." As the last one of the team to leave, he shut the door to a quiet, lonely scene of empty chairs and lingering piles of paper.

Yes. He hated paperwork. He'd give himself another half hour before calling it quits.

* * *

Freezing and sore, Edward curled into an even tighter ball on the floor. "Brrrrrrr," his teeth said. He couldn't help but agree.

Detention was the same boring shit it always was, and it was just his bad luck that Mr. B was the one sitting in today, so he had to deal with the man's steely eye stare him down for the entire session.

The karate club had finished half an hour ago, so he was just waiting on Al to finish up his tutoring for the National Honors Society. The 'society' was so goddamn pretentious. Ed was invited too, but he noped out after the initiation ceremony where they lit three candles and only spoke in compliments. If he wanted to help people, he'd do it on his own.

With nothing better to pass the time, he absentmindedly scrolled through YouTube for videos he could share with Winry tomorrow morning. She had such a pretty laugh, like the sun was coming out of the clouds just for him.

He groaned aloud. He had it _bad_.

Ed found three videos (and put them in his private playlist) before Alphonse tromped his way outside, kicking up loose snow as he went. Mei, young and small, followed in his bigger footsteps, giggling as she kicked up snow every which way around them.

The small teenager lost all her cheer when they stopped before the angry bundle of red, though.

"Edward," she said flatly.

"Mei," he greeted back, just as enthusiastically.

Alphonse purposely ignored them. "See you tomorrow, Mei, don't forget to practice the equations we discussed."

Like a light had been switched on, the Xingese girl immediately brightened. "Of course! Bye!" Then, far less happily, she turned to Ed, "bye."

"Yeah, see yah," he muttered. Then, with a stiff stretch, pulled himself upright. "So we goin' or what?"

"Yeah, let's go home."

They started walking, side-by-side, and the snow drifted along, keeping them company.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: yay. So, everything is planned out, I just have to write it. Wish me luck, haha. And I hope y'all enjoyed it.


End file.
